" "What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly. He passed, and came loitering back and stood beside her, silently looking into her face. It had showed up at an auction at Sotheby’s after someone had sold it. Beneath these prints, a cluster of hobnails, driven into the wall, formed certain letters, which, if properly deciphered, produced the words, "Paul Groves, cobler;" and under the name, traced in charcoal, appeared the following record of the poor fellow's fate, "Hung himsel in this rum for luv off licker;" accompanied by a graphic sketch of the unhappy suicide dangling from a beam. There was a hint of tears in her voice.
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